Liberation and Release

"What am I doing here?" I asked myself again.
I looked around me.
And I never felt so alone although I am surrounded by hundreds of people.
I clutched the glass of soda in my hands as if life itself is dependent on it.
And for the first time in my life I wished I could take in something stronger -
Like a vodka.
And that I smoke -
Like the sophisticated woman in front of me -
Who ignores me every single moment she can.
I glanced at the wall clock -
9:30.
I’ve been in this party for an hour and a half -
But it seems like eternal.
Then accidentally I saw her -
The sister -
And she looked at me with veneer and disgust I wanted to flinch.
She whispered something to her companion.
Who after that equally gave me a look of hatred -
I miss home -
Nobody in my family would do this -
No matter how much we might despise a guest.
"What am I doing here?" I asked myself again.
Inside me I wanted to cry.
I have brainwashed myself to be pleasant -
And by God, I’ve tried.
But every attempt I’ve made -
Is thrown back in my face -
And to avoid hateful confrontations I retreated back to this corner.
The sophisticated woman in front of me gave another look of disgust.
I moved for the patio -
For some fresh air, I said.
But I know -
That if I won't move out of this room -
I will be reduced to a weeping stranger.
I’ve almost escaped to the patio when I overheard the sister say, "She will never belong here."
I grasped.
Then my hands trembled in anger.
Who are these people to judge me?
They do not know me -
Pride kept me silent.
And a memory -
Of my mother's advise to never impose yourself to others.
I could feel tears closing in my throat - but I held them back
I will never give them the satisfaction of seeing me reduced to tears.
My heart thudded like resounding drums -
Suppressed tears threatened to suffocate me -
And desperately I’ve tried another attempt to escape to the patio -
When out of nowhere -
He came barging into the room.
Gripped my arm with fierceness.
And in dead calmness said.
"Let's get out of here."
I could see anger held in check in his eyes.
And his firm grip defies all protest.
And even so, I couldn't protest should I wanted to -
For in my heart I know I am defeated.
I followed him blindly outside to his car.
And none so gently he shoved me to the seat -
I felt so numb but my hands trembled in anger.
My chest tightened in suffocation.
And in a calm yet demanding voice he said
"For goodness sake, cry!"
I refused to look at him, my body stiffened in denial.
"Cry Cy, I demand it. Cry!" He thundered like a madman now.
Liberating from my inner struggle. Freeing myself, I did.
Cy03.30.06

Getting Use To

"I don't think I'll ever understand," I told him.
"Understand what?" he asked.
"Understand how I can ever get use to this emotion we call pain..."
"You will never get used to it," he said.
"Each instant with pain is deemed as a unique moment," he said.

Perfection

He was sitting beside the window with the morning sun on his hair.
He looked intent browsing thru the book in his hand.
"How can you measure perfection?" I asked.
He glanced at my direction, lifted his left brow in silent inquiry.
"How...?" I asked, slightly frowning for I cannot seem to find the right words to say.
"How can you label one as perfect when nobody knows what perfection is?" I added.
He was silent for a moment.
"Perfection is a matter of conviction or belief," he said.
"It is subjective."
He closed the book and laid it silently on the table.
"It is not measured in terms of metrics, for like love, it is immeasurable," he continued.
"It is dependent on the profoundness of the encounter."
Cy03.19.06

Pain

"Pain," I said to him. “Does not go out of the window or door easily."
He just looked at me and said nothing.
"It stays around for a long time. Bouncing back and forth on the four walls of the room…" I continued.
He cleared his throat, still not saying anything.
"It stays long after the tears are dried up and your emotions' parched..." my words just drifted off into nothingness.
Silence.
Until the ticking of the clock on the distant hall is the only sound echoing in the room.
"Pain is a strong emotion Cy," he said. "Sometimes you need to let it fully sink in, to be able to detach from it completely."
It was my turn to look at him and said nothing.
"But letting it fully sink in is completely different from letting it linger," he said.
Cy03.13.06

Distance

He sat infront of me.
Approximately two and a half feet away.
In a breakfast table for four.
"Hi," I said.
"Hello," he replied.
And gave a timid, half an inch of a smile.
"Would you like some tea?" I asked him.
He just gave a brief nod.
Before glancing at the window, a meter away.
I reached for the cup located at the center of the table -
Twelve inches away from me.
"Here," I said, handing him the cup.
Moving in an inch closer.
Our fingers brushing.
"Thanks," he said.
Then he took a gulp of the tea.
Gave a heartfelt sigh.
Then smiled.
A broad one inch of a smile this time.
He leaned towards me.
Moving inches closer.
To reach out for my hand.
Which I rested two inches away from the edge of the table.
Barely a foot away from him.
And held it warmly into his.
I looked into his eyes.
Five inches away.
Then smiled.
A broad one inch of a smile.
Then I remembered something.
And once again he reads my mind like he always does -
Because he started laughing.
Then burst into a contagious mirth.
I laughed too.
I couldn't help it.
Closing in the distance.
Until there is no more space between us.
Cy03.09.06

Expectations

“How sad it is,” I said.” If one expects too much from you…”
He just looked at me and said nothing.
“And you struggle so hard to meet the expectations – “I added.
“Pushing yourself to the limits…”
“You are a victor if you exceed expectations – but what if you won’t? “
“Does it make you a loser?” I asked.
"Does it make you less a person?"
"How long can you lie to yourself?"
"How could people expect too much from one person?"
"What gives them the right?"
And then there was silence.
I realized I was exhausted.
"It is indeed sad," he said calmly.
"You wouldn't be a loser should you fail to meet other people's expectation."
"It doesn't make you less a person either."
"Those people who cannot accept you for who and what you are - "
"Those are the people with very big problems."
"They are blind to what is real and genuine."
They are the real losers, I said to myself.
He paused.
Then continued.
"People do not have the right to judge other people."
"You and I know who has THE RIGHT to expect something from one," he emphasized.
"You must not lie to yourself - that is your duty."
"You don't owe these people anything - "
"In this life -"
"You only owe yourself and your God."
Cy03.07.06

More Questions

How much damage can be done to a person to tell that he had enough?
How can one stop pain?
Is it indifference?
Numbness?
Are these ways to be completely devoid of any emotions?
And if these are, how can one attain these states -
If one is exhausted, should one give up on love?
Is it love if it is exhausting?
If there should be doubt, how strong must love be?
If there should be misery, how great must faith be -
How deep can a wound be?
And the capacity to heal does it ever depends on how deep the wound is?
And how can one mend a broken heart?
Can one ever heal a broken soul -
Or it is, again, going to be all up to making choices -
Acceptance was a healer –
And forgiveness -
And time –
And letting go…
Cy03.01.06

Power in Silence

Many times I found myself in deep silence –
Not because of the lack of someone to converse with –
But because I have a certain fondness of it.
There seems to be so much power in silence -
It gives me time to contemplate on things that are -
To think of the things that were -
And to dream about the things that will be…
Cy11.02.2005